


Echo 12

by Fort46807



Category: F.E.A.R. (Video Games)
Genre: First Time Blow Jobs, Gay male characters, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 14:48:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5789440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fort46807/pseuds/Fort46807
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Its the night of the Replica attack on Armacham and accounting department employee Sam Karcher becomes an unwilling 'person of interest' to Paxton Fettel and a squad of Replica soldiers. As he is led through a hell of bullets and carnage the nuclear explosion renders his last remaining captor inert. From there things take an interesting turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echo 12

**Author's Note:**

> Authors Note: The FEAR games pretty much established that Replicas are kind of creepy looking under their helmets. I didn't go with that. Along with other things, I didn't exactly follow the facts established in the game either. This is my first work, I hope its enjoyable!
> 
> Update: 4/18/2018. These two chapters I've added give us a deeper look into the machinations of the government and ATC, along with bringing in some honorable mentions such as Sergeant Beckett. I've also developed 12 and Sam's relationship a little more. I hope you all enjoy it, I welcome feedback, questions, or suggestions. Thanks!

Chapter 1  
Burning the Midnight Oil

“Hey, are there any donuts left in the lounge?”, Kim Lone asked with a yawn as he leaned out from behind his cubical wall.

The question was mostly left unheard, as the only response from his next-door co-worker was “idunno” followed by the sharp click of a keyboard.

Kim frowned, “Sam, hey, are you in a trance over there or what?”

Sam Bennett, a tall and lean young man of above 25 with thin features, short black hair and average size blue eyes stopped typing and observed his coworkers tired and overtly Asian features.

“All I heard was ‘donut’ and ‘hey Sam I’m tempting your skinny ass to go take a look’ was that it?”, Sam remarked boringly with a touch of dryness in his throat. Sam rubbed his face, feeling his high cheekbones. He was reminded for a moment of how his features had once been referred to as ‘cute in that stereotypical guy way’.

Kim frowned, “No, I was simply commenting on the fact that its midnight and I’m hungry and the coffee pot can be smelled burning.”

“When was the last time that Armacham wanted us to rename the Federal accounts? I mean, what the hell does Origin Maintenance Fund mean? What the hell is that?”, Sam said with tired agitation as he thrust a long finger at the computer screen.

Kim shrugged his narrow shoulders and rubbed his near hairless scalp, “No idea, all I know is that we have the authority to do it as junior accountants so we are the only ones that can. Remember, discretion is putting two and two together and keeping your mouth shut. They don’t pay us to ask questions, simply to do and be told to do. Its fine by me.”, Kim said as he leaned back in his chair. With a sly grin he added, “Kind of like don’t ask don’t tell, right Sam?”

Sam sneered and nodded his head in agreement at the innuendo at his persuasion before he loosened his tie, “Did they shut the AC off on us up here again? And on top of that, where is the security guard that usually does his rounds?”

Kim narrowed his eyes at his coworker as he sipped cold coffee, “Is someone bitching again or just wondering if he can get a date?”

Sam sighed in agitation, letting his thin eyebrows furrow, “I’m just tired and…bored! My Xbox at home is getting its workout, because I just don’t go anywhere! What I need is some excitement in my life. Like a fire, or a house burning down that I have to rush into to rescue some kittens or something. As for dating, you know the policy on office relationships, but yes, I will agree that Mac is attractive. But alas, maybe I am to forever be the lonely fag.”

“How long have you been single and since when did you start losing it?”, Kim said as he leaned back with his cold coffee mug. Sam could sense the shrink setting taking place.

“Four years Dr. Lone, and counting.”

Sam smiled as he saved his work on the PC. While he leaned forward, a distant and faint sound echoed through the deserted floor of darkened cubicles. It resembled someone throwing down a handful of whippersnappers that just happened to pop all in close successions to one another.

Sam frowned in curiosity as he looked over at Kim, “What was that?”

Kim shrugged again as he turned off his monitor, “Maybe your security guard you were so concerned about is playing with firecrackers in the restroom near the elevators.”

Sam wanted to snigger at the thought of Mac, crouching down on his combat boots as he lit firecrackers into the toilets, but the reality that they may have actually been gunfire gripped him. He felt sweat begin to pop up on his forehead as he recalled the time he got caught in the middle of a liquor store robbery. He didn’t get shot but three people did, and to make it worse he had to watch and those moments were as real to him now as the day it happened.

At that precise moment, after the crackling of Kim’s computer monitor ceased, he heard it again, this time a little more clear. It was gunfire, something from a small automatic weapon. It had to be.

“Kim, there is..uh..something wrong. There is something going on on this floor or another. I am telling you its gunfire.” Sam hissed quietly. As wrong as it was, a little part of him was kind of hoping something was going down. Maybe it was security taking down a criminal, or a thief, or….something!

Sam’s hands began to tremble as Kim leaned over again, “Hey relax. Don’t put yourself into another panic attack.”

Sam could feel his chest tighten up, “I’ve got to call security.”

“If it makes you feel better.”

Sam grabbed up the receiver on his desk phone, dropped it, quickly grabbed it up again and dialed 09. Each ring made his heart thump in his head; six rings and no answer from the main security office. Sam laughed out of nervousness as he dialed maintenance next. When there was no answer there he gave a cry of agitation and dialed the main desk twelve floors down. It replied with a busy signal.

“God damn it, god damn it, there isn’t an answer anywhere!”, Sam choked out from behind sweaty features.

Kim stood up and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder, “Relax Sam, what could be happening? We are twelve floors up in a very safe building and this is a very safe city so what could possibly be happening? Besides that, you’re going to make your asthma act up!”

“Kim, I know what that sound is and there is something wrong here!”, Sam cried with sincerity.

At that precise moment, the overhead lights failed, instantly being replaced with white emergency lights and the quiet three electronic alarm pulse of a power failure in the building. The yellow lights down the hall at the end of the room indicated a usage of generator power.

“I’m calling the cops!”, Sam cried out. He knew he was a little adventurous but he was still a coward and he was taking no chances at all even if it meant losing his job. He grabbed up the receiver as Kim made his protests and dialed the outside line. He waited for the tone and dialed 9-1-1. It rang and the dispatcher answered with a clipped professionalism. So calm and controlled and Sam was in a near panic.

“911 what is your emergency?”

“Yes, I’m on the twelfth floor of the ATC executive building and I have heard gunshots!”, Sam spat out with a constrained voice.

“Sir, please remain calm. Have you contacted building security?”

“Shit, they won’t answer the call! No one is answering anywhere and we are practically trapped up here! The power failed and that means the elevators are out!”

“Sir, has anyone been injured?”

“Christ, I don’t know I just know that that gun is getting up here!”

“Sir, units are on the way, please stay on the line-”, a static grumble interrupted the dispatcher as the line went dead.

“Oh my God!”, Sam said as he clicked the disconnect switch.

“Sam, what the hell happened?”

“Kim, something cut the line!”, Sam said as he wheezed and went for his inhaler.

Something within the building rumbled and the alarm silenced. Sam leaned over his cubicle and grabbed water off Kim’s desk and drank it.

“Kim”, he began as water leaked out of the corners of his mouth, “get your cell phone and call 911!”

“Sam, this is ridiculous! I’m going down to the security by the exec offices and I’m going to find out what’s happening. Just relax!”

“Kim, give me your cell phone and I’ll do it!”, Sam pleaded as he slid back into his seat.

“Sam, no! Just relax!” Kim said as he stormed off through the darkened floor. Sam rubbed his sweaty forehead and tried to control his shaking hands. The memory of that woman with the fair brown hair lying on the floor in that liquor store, blood leaking from the corner of her mouth as she slowly bled out from three bullet wounds to the chest. Her eyes were wide in terror and confusion. Sam was lying on the floor, spared an untimely death as the gunmen left. He was frozen in fear and couldn’t move to help her. Her hand was outstretched and her eyes communicated her pleading but he couldn’t move. Damn it, he couldn’t move!

The noise repeated and he knew it was by the elevator banks! He had watched enough movies to know it was a sub machine gun! Sam cried out “no!” and slid under his desk to hide. He grabbed the cord from his desk lamp and yanked it out of its socket. He could hear heavy footsteps inch closer through the room. He panicked again as he saw the pale light from his monitor. He struck his head on the underside of his desk as he struggled to find the cord. He found it and pulled! It came undone and sent the bottle of water toppling over. It ran and dripped over and off the desk and onto the carpet as he watched legs walk along the windowed walls directly behind his desk.

They looked military, the knees were covered with metal pads the pants were a green, tan, black, and gray tiger stripe that were tucked in and bloused into scuffed combat boots. Sam was terrified when he saw the tip of an automatic rifle get lowered down to the side of its carrier. He could barely breathe as he scrunched tighter under his desk. He wished he was thinner and could wrap up even more, and then he could fit tighter! The legs stopped and turned towards his cubicle. They were either the real military or they were…someone else.

They inched closer and the rifle was brought up and forward to where it was out of sight. Sam’s breathing quickened as sweat rolled down his face. He prayed to God they would leave but they didn’t. Water began to drip and run on the subjects boot and he could hear clothing move as the figure leaned in closer to the desk.

“Oh God please help me!” he prayed as he clenched his eyes shut. He could imagine his death, pulled out from under his desk and shot in the back of the head just like the cashier! The brains, the blood, and the splintered skull all over the floor were more than he could stand. He nearly wet his pants as a big hand grabbed his arm and yanked him out with dislocating power. He was instantly sprawled out on the floor and was again frozen with terror. He lay there for an instant before he was grabbed again, this time from the back of his neck with his shirt collar. He couldn’t stand, his captor kept him hunched over as he was led through the cubicles at a fast pace. He stumbled, and was instantly struck in the ribs by his captor. He issued a yelp, gasped for air and managed to keep up. 

He could feel tears of terror begin to well up in his eyes as he was led to the elevator banks. From there, he was thrown into a janitorial office. He slipped on some water and went crashing into a supply shelf. Bottles of window cleaner rained down on him as he retreated into a corner. That’s when he saw his captor. He stood roughly six foot three and was dressed in the same pattern of camouflage as his pants. His chest was covered with what Sam guessed was a black bulletproof vest with gray shoulder pads or something. His left upper arm had something strapped to it with a patch facing outward on it that must have been a rank. A utility belt held a few ammo pouches and a few other things. His head was covered with what Sam could only describe as a gray motorcycle helmet with a black visor. The helmet was held on with a chinstrap but the wearers features couldn’t be scene. It was as if they were covered with one of those winter masks that cover your chin, mouth, and nose. Sam vaguely remembered it being called a balaclava.

The gloves on his hands, whose backs seemed to be covered in small slivers of metal to cover the backs of the fingers, were holding a large and menacing looking rifle. Sam knew never to look gunmen in the eye, so he didn’t as he teared up and began pleading.

“Please, for God’s sake don’t kill me! I haven’t done anything! I’m just an accountant, I mess with numbers! I never hurt anyone! Take my money and whatever you want but please just don’t kill me!”

His captor tilted his head sideways and gave no response. He spoke, but it wasn’t to Sam.

“Command, this is Echo 12. We have cleared the Executive Level and have found one captive. No casualties and one termination.”

Its voice was calm and flat, but strong and in control at the same time. It was slightly rough, or that may have been the radio, but whatever it was it didn’t sound friendly.

“I see”, a voice spoke from behind his captor. It was oily, and reminded him of the noise a snake, an evil snake, would make if it slithered through wet grass. His captor stepped to the side in a clipped military fashion to reveal a man standing less than six feet tall, with deep green eyes, and short black hair. His features were thin and pale and what may very well have been blood surrounded his mouth. He was clothed with solid colored pants; Sam couldn’t tell what color because of the absence of lighting. The rest of his uniform was red perhaps, and a few other colors but Sam just couldn’t see as he was trying to avoid looking at them.

“What is your name?”, he asked.

“Sam…Karcher …s-ss-sir.”, Sam stammered out.

“Mr. Karcher what do you do here?”

“I’m a Junior Accountant sir, I handle large accounts.”, Sam managed to say without skipping as a tear fell from his face.

“What accounts specifically Mr. Karcher?”

“The government accounts sir.”

The man inhaled and exhaled slowly and with calculation as he let his next question slide out, “What were you doing here this late?”

“The Chief Financial Officer ordered me and my coworker to rename some accounts for the government.”, Sam said as he cried ever so quietly.

“Why were they having you do that Mr. Karcher?”

“I don’t know sir; I thought it was very strange.”

“Stop weeping Mr. Karcher, if you were to die it would have been done already.”

Sam sniffled as he tried desperately to stop crying. His interrogator lounged against the doorframe to the closet and waited until Sam had stopped crying before he continued.

“Are you of any use to us Mr. Karcher?”

“I’m an accountant sir, I don’t know but I’ll do whatever you ask just please don’t hurt me.”

His interrogator tisked, “Mr. Karcher, you will stay in our custody. If you make any attempt to escape or lead others to us you will be killed. And believe me, death will be what you wish for if you betray me. You will remain in the custody of this soldier.”

His interrogator pointed slightly at his captor before he turned and left. He gave the soldier a glance before he rounded the corner and left. His captor turned back to Sam and spoke, not to him but apparently his radio, “Copy command.”

He reached forward, letting his rifle slide down as he grabbed Sam by the arm and pulled him up. Sam still refused to look at him even as he was shoved out into the elevator lobby. Once there, Sam observed that there were at least five more soldiers identically uniformed like his captor. Sam nearly vomited as he observed two by an open elevator shaft tossing in the body of an ATC security guard. He had been shot multiple places and Sam was going to vomit as the body disappeared into the elevator shaft. 

He quickly sought out the bathroom and tried to run for it but his captor grabbed him immediately and wrenched his arm up behind him. Sam cried in agony and pain shot up his arm, “Son of a bitch! I have to go to the bathroom there! Please, I have to go!”, Sam said as he began to feel faint. 

His captor released him but followed closely as Sam ran into the bathroom. He threw the door open to a stall, fell to his knees and vomited. He lay there, worshipping the porcelain for probably ten minutes before his captor grabbed him again and pulled him to his feet. Sam was shoved again back into the elevator lobby. The soldiers communicated with each other for a moment before they piled into the elevator. Sam’s captor was referred to as Echo 12, along with some others also being called Echo along with another number. Sam was pushed in between the group as one nearest the panel pressed the number for the 2nd floor. 

“Oh my God, where’s Kim!”, Sam shouted in his mind, “Is he in the bottom of the elevator shaft to!”

Sam felt tears again and his legs felt wobbly. He was in serious trouble and his friend was nowhere to be found. He felt hope again as he realized he had called the police and they knew where he was. But for some reason that feeling was hollow as he realized that these people, if they could be called that, could easily outgun the entire police department. The group led him through the darkened facility, Sam was unsure why but Echo 12 kept him at the back of the group usually with a gun to his back. Sam wanted to run, wanted to get away so bad but he knew that these people meant business and they would kill him.

“Echo squad, there are intruders in your vicinity. Proceed with caution.”

Sam was soaked with sweat but he calmed himself as he repeated in his mind what the police said to do if you were ever a hostage. He would do what they said, fine, he wouldn’t look them in the eye, fine, and don’t-

His thoughts were instantly interrupted as masonry from the wall exploded near him from gunfire as it tore through the air. Echo 12 threw him into a door, which opened instantly, dropping Sam to his stomach. Sam crawled under a nearby desk as gunfire ripped through the wall around his hiding spot. Echo 12 was gone, disappeared into the fray. Sam watched in horror as the glass front of the office shattered to pieces, revealing the slaughter taking place in the 2nd floor lobby. Soldiers, the good kind, perhaps special forces were taking cover behind the front desk. Three of theirs were dead; their bodies still pouring blood over the ATC symbol etched into the linoleum.

“Grenade out!”, one of the soldiers shouted as the explosive sailed out from the side of Echo squad. It exploded with such intensity that Sam’s ears instantly went deaf. Blood and gore sprayed from behind the desk as it and the soldiers behind it came apart in the explosion. Sam passed out as hot blood misted his face. He drifted off as the humming in his ears and the muffled shouts swirled into his unconscious mind. He dreamed of home, of his little apartment at the end of King Street with his Xbox and pictures of his old boyfriend Rick. What a lovely thought.

 

Chapter 2  
Hostage

Sam was rudely awakened as cold water rushed over his head. He sat bolt upright and was face to face with his captor. Echo 12, blood glistening off his helmet and shoulders resembling someone who had recently engaged in bloody wrestling, tossed a bucket aside. He leveled his rifle at Sam and approached him. Sam, knowing what was coming next, stood up before he could be grabbed. Echo 12 grabbed him anyway and directed him down what looked like a maintenance hallway in the basement. He no longer had any idea where he was going.

But, he did know that he had just witnessed American soldiers get murdered by these bastards. What he didn’t know is what use he could possibly offer these evil people. Better to let them think he was useful then to give them any idea to the contrary. He must have some importance or Echo 12 wouldn’t have thrown him out of harm’s way. It was funny; his captors were protecting him from the good guys! Sam wasn’t trotting along fast enough so Echo 12 nudged him roughly with the rifle. Sam gave a noise of pain and walked faster. Sam was good at putting things out of his mind so he did. He would worry about Kim when he could, and in a rather insensitive manner he would put the dead soldiers out of his mind as well. Really, what could he do about it anyway!

The group stopped, which was when Sam realized that two were missing. They were probably dead. Good, at least maybe they got what they deserved! Sam mused further when he realized that he wasn’t panicking anymore. Maybe the traumatic sights he had just witnessed scared him into normal thinking. Some of the soldiers took leaks right in the hallway while talking on their radios.

“Well, at least they’re somewhat human. Who the fuck taught them where to piss?”, Sam thought as he looked at his watch. It was four in the morning but he wasn’t tired. He knew that he was going to have to try very hard to adapt to his captors demands. He had to be quick and on his feet or he would get hit or thrown around. Maybe he could get some answers from 12 he thought as his eyes inched up to his captor’s neck. That guy didn’t say anything against talking.

“Will I be let go when you guys get what your after?”, Sam asked very cautiously.

Echo 12 lowered his head and observed his captive, “Shut the fuck up.”

Sam looked down immediately. Okay, talking was bad to so Sam shut his mouth and didn’t say anything else. The group got up and moved again. He noticed that they never talked to each other unless it was in combat. Sam was thrown around more as they encountered more “good guys”. Sam nearly got shot again and passed out again, only to wake up on his own to find Echo 12 kneeling over him, covering him as he unloaded his rifle into an ATC security guard. Sam screamed and covered his ears as hot casings fell around him.

The killing stopped, so Sam cautiously uncovered his ears and stood up only when 12 did. He saw bodies, but instantly looked the other way.

“Echo squad what is your status?”, a radio squawked out.

“We have one more casualty. Our squad is down to three.”, one of them replied. 

Sam felt faint again and looked sadly at a water fountain. His mouth was long dry so he edged slowly over to it but then stopped when he heard 12 reload his rifle. Sam looked at him and swallowed nervously as he pointed to the water fountain. Sam moved very slowly and took a long drink. He put his arms up slowly and moved back over to his captor, who gave him another shove to get moving. Sam stepped over their fallen comrade and glared at his bleeding corpse with anger.

“You deserved it.”, he whispered as the group moved through a boiler room. Sam was trying very hard to keep his faintness under control. He began to wheeze and went for his inhaler. Echo 12 noticed the movement like a cat as his helmeted head snapped over to observe the motion. In an instant, as Sam drew his hand out of his pocket, Echo 12 slammed the butt of his rifle down on Sam’s hand. Sam gave a shout of pain as his knuckles split open and the inhaler went skating under some equipment.

Sam panicked and so did his lungs as he began to have an asthma attack. Without thinking he went after it and 12 was on him in an instant, striking him twice in the back with the butt of his rifle until Sam fell to the floor in pain. He reached for the inhaler as he cried out in pain-wracked words, “I need it! I can’t breathe you fuck-shit!”

Echo 12 either didn’t understand or chose not to as he viciously jerked Sam to his feet and shoved him away from his inhaler.

“Please! I need it or I can’t breathe, don’t you understand me! I’m sure your fuck commander wouldn’t appreciate it if I suffocated!”, Sam cried out between wheezes. 

“Shut the fuck up.”, Echo 12 replied as he raised his rifle.

Sam raised his hands, “Please! Can’t you hear that I’m having trouble breathing! I need it or I could die, why aren’t you listening to me?”

Echo 12 dipped his head back slightly, and kept his vision on Sam as he knelt down and grabbed the inhaler in a tight fist. He stood, and moved slowly towards him with his rifle and then in one quick motion he threw it at Sam. 

Sam struggled for it, dropped it and then grabbed it up quickly. He took two puffs and stood as his breathing evened. Echo 12 observed his every motion down to when Sam put the inhaler back into his pocket. Sam hated himself for being such a coward, and hated himself even more as he thanked his captor. Sam observed the blood running down his hands and grabbed his tie, pulled it off and then wrapped it around his hand. 

Echo 12 nudged him with his rifle and directed him to continue walking. Sam realized that the group had not stopped, and was nowhere to be seen. Echo 12 seemed lost, but Sam dared not offer any directions. Eventually, they caught up with the group outside on the street. Sam instantly looked around and saw the ATC building in the distance, maybe a mile away. Sam was wondering how long he had been out but what really got his attention were the lack of cars and people in the streets. 

“Where is everyone?”, he wondered. An explosion on the ATC building roof made him jump. The flames rolled up into a ball and vanished into black flames against the early morning sky. In the distance he could vaguely hear gunfire and perhaps grenades but he didn’t know. All he could point out was when an SMG was fired. The group continued down the deserted streets and entered the subway. Sam quickly looked at the sign above the stairs and gathered that he was five miles from his apartment and a ways away from work for sure. But where were the police? Why wasn’t he hearing sirens or seeing anyone? Surely people knew what was happening!

As they walked down the underground tunnel, past the buzzing signs advertising cell phones and subway travel, Sam saw bodies ahead. He tried to control his nervousness as he looked at them. They were commuters, had to have been, but someone had murdered them. He couldn’t help but glare at the backs of the surviving two that were leading the way. He hated them.

The group proceeded into a terminus where shouts and gunfire instantly ensued in the dimly lit expanse. Echo 12 grabbed Sam, forced him into a stoop and led him along the wall. Suddenly bullets began obliterating the tile wall beside them, there source unknown. As Echo 12 propelled him along he also returned fire the whole while. 12 shoved Sam behind a stack of crates, kneeled down and continued firing. Sam heard the call for a grenade, and instantly covered his ears. He heard and felt the explosion and watched as Echo 12 buckled and fell to his side. A piece of something had struck him just above the kneecap. Blood began to ooze out of the jagged tear in his uniform, but 12 was up in an instant firing his gun as if it had never happened. Sam figured he could use this chance to run so he began to crawl behind the crates. As bullets zipped around him and he heard cries of death and smelled blood, fear, and gore but he kept his focus on the open door.

He could feel escape! He crawled faster and froze in terror as a soldier came through the door. Sam would have smiled in relief at the sight of one of the good soldiers, except that this one aimed his weapon at Sam and had full intention of killing him. Sam stared at him in confusion and watched as the soldier’s finger on the trigger tightened back. Sam stared at the barrel and wondered if there was life after death. Suddenly, in an instant bullets tore through the soldier! One in the shoulder, a second in the chest, and the third and final ripped through the chest as well. He fell to his knees and then backwards. Sam could hear a gurgle as life left the soldiers body.

Sam could only gasp and choke in air as silence fell around him. He turned back and observed Echo 12 standing over him. Sam watched as 12, breathing heavily, reloaded his weapon. He then reached down and jerked Sam to his feet. Sam stood there and stared at 12 as he stepped passed him. 12, expectantly, stood over the corpse of the soldier he just shot and motioned for Sam to continue.

“Why…why did he try to kill me?”, Sam asked.

Instead of his usual response, 12 said nothing and grabbed Sam by the arm and shoved him along. Sam replayed the intense moment in his head as he observed the body again. Why would he try to kill him? Was he confused? Did he think Sam was a part of all this?

The last survivor of the team, excluding 12, walked over and continued with the group. Sam was terrified now that he was going to die, not by their hands but by the hands of the people he thought would try to rescue him. He realized now that leaving their side could mean that he would be killed anyway.

Chapter 3  
Revelation

Sam contemplated his plight and couldn’t help but notice that 12’s leg was now soaked with blood and showed no chance of getting better. Sam couldn’t understand what was wrong with him. Why, if he were a trained killer, would he not be trained to treat a serious injury like that? Obviously he could kill, that went without question. Sam mustered up what very little courage he had and tried to speak to 12 again.

“Why did he want to kill me back there?”, Sam asked quietly.

Again, 12 did not offer an answer.

Sam was scared to death of 12 but he pressed on, “Echo 12, why did he want to kill me? I know I shouldn’t speak, but he was going to shoot me, I want to know why.”

Sam turned his head slightly, using his action to catch a glimpse of 12 while at the same time moving his head to the side for a fallen conduit. 12 again remained silent. Sam was angry, he wanted answers but he was scared to death to ask them. But, something inside him begged for him to press further.

“Hey! Echo 12! You shot him before he could shoot me, why?”

There was a pause then he spoke with his flat, emotionless masculine voice that they all seemed to share to some extent, “Our orders were to keep you protected because you are a subject of interest.”

“Were you all ordered to do that or just you?”

The soldier in front of Sam suddenly stopped so quickly that Sam clumsily bumped into him. Sam, as confused as ever, watched as the soldier stood limply. His rifle slid from his shoulder, caught on his limp hand for a moment then fell to the ground with a clatter. His head leaned forward and the only motion was his breathing. Sam turned to observe that 12 was in the same condition. Limp, their heads bowed and the only motion coming from their now steady breathing.

Sam was dumbfounded. Was this some kind of joke? Sam leaned in and looked 12 up and down. He got in close; close enough to hear his steady breathing. Also, and unfortunately, close enough to realize that 12 had an odor of extreme exertion.

“Echo 12”, Sam called.

No response, as if he was in a standing coma.

Sam was about to press further when the tunnel began to tremble violently. A roaring tremor ripped overhead causing the walls to crack and the lights to dim sporadically. Dust, broken fragments of brick began to fall on and around the soldiers. Sam wasted no time and took shelter in a nearby phone booth. The roaring grew to a climax, causing some of the lights to burst from overload. The telephone rang sporadically for a moment, and then all suddenly grew instantly silent. The tunnel and nearby structures groaned and creaked as the stress of whatever happened began to settle in, bits of masonry trickled down from deep cracks. 

“Fuck me! Was it a god damn nuke?”, Sam mumbled as he eased out of the phone booth. Bricks had obviously struck the two soldiers but still they didn’t move. Sam, feeling helpless, slid down onto a bench and sat. Twenty minutes went by and all was silent as his thoughts wandered between running and staying with his captors/protectors. A side door suddenly opened into the hallway. Sam jumped and backed away as a man stumbled through. It was an ATC security guard.

His black ball cap was missing, as was his bulletproof vest, his cliché black sunglasses that they all wore, and his ear bud radio. His features, though strong, were now scraped, cut and bruised. His eyes held a wide-eyed and crazed appearance. The fact that he came through holding a pistol was worse. He rounded on Sam, who instantly threw his hands up.

“Don’t shoot!”, he cried.

“Who the fuck are you!”, he demanded with a horse cry.

“I’m Sam Karcher, Junior Accountant with ATC.”

The guard seemed to understand as he lowered his gun only to quickly raise it again at the sight of the soldiers.

“What the fuck…its them…more of them!”, the guard shouted as his gun shook.

“They just stopped moving-”

The guard cut him off, “That’s because their sick fuck commander’s dead! They go all limp and stupid when someone shuts him off!”

Sam was confused, “How would you know that?”

“You poor bastard! Didn’t you know that ATC created these fucks? They made them and their commander went crazy and told them to kill everybody! A psychic link they call it! Psychic bullshit! They killed my buddies! They shot them and they shot the employees! Fucking Replica clones!”

The guard began to choke on his words as tears welled up in his abused features. Sam was still too scared of his gun to offer the man comfort.

“Why are you still standing by them?”, he asked as he began to calm down.

“They took me hostage-”

“Here, I’ll shoot them for you.”

Before Sam could react the guard pumped three shots into the first soldier. His lifeless and limp form fell to the ground and blood began to spread across the debris strewn cement floor.

“Jesus Christ! What the fuck is wrong with you!”, Sam shouted.

“Me! Nothing, they murdered everyone so who cares! Get out of here while you still can dumbass! Now, get out of the way so I can get that one.”

Sam’s mind raced, “No…wait…he’s already injured so he’ll die anyway. If you leave him he will suffer and die slower.”

The guard observed the bloody leg, “Good, I hope it hurts him. You stand there all you want I’m shittin’ and gittin’.”

The guard ran off down the hallway and was gone with the slam of a door. Sam, acting more clearly than he thought he could grabbed the rifle from Echo 12 and threw it into a nearby trash can while doing the same with the dead soldiers firearm.

“Okay, you motherfucker, you’re not going to shoot me!”, Sam began with righteous anger, “So whose fucked now? Whose shuttin’ up now, huh, asshole, motherfucker, jar head fuck weed!”

Sam watched in surprise as Echo’s injured leg buckled and he fell over still motionless. For a moment, Sam wanted to snigger in sick amusement but then realized that he should do something with that injury, but didn’t 12 deserve to die? He was a senseless killer but maybe, Sam thought, he’d talk more when no one else is around, that is if he ever wakes up.

Sam acted by dragging 12 over and up onto a bench with extreme difficulty since he was heavy. A half buried med kit he was able to find in a semi-collapsed office. If it was one thing he learned in the scouts it was first aid and mom teaching him sewing made what he was about to do relatively easy. Sam tore the blood soaked pant to reveal the bloody gash. The kneepad helped to constrict circulation so Sam moved that up above the gash while he went to work, not being gentle at all.

“I hope it hurts you bastard. I’m getting even now!”

Sam used alcohol wipes generously then used a combat knife off the dead soldier to pry out a piece of metal from the wound. After that, Sam cleaned it again, sewed it up, patched it and then wrapped it up. Satisfied with his work, Sam replaced the kneepad. It was a gamble, but hopefully he could put some leverage on the son of a bitch.

 

 

Chapter 4  
The Subway Dweller

Sam had lay down on a park bench across from 12 and dozed off; he had no idea how long he had been sleeping when a rat, running across him, woke him up. The rat stopped on his thigh and chattered menacingly. Sam saw it and whacked it in sheer horror. It was sent skittering and disappeared into a crack in the wall. He was hoping it was all a nightmare but he was wrong. He checked his watch only to find that it was now dead. Sam tried to lie back down when he noticed that 12 was sitting up. Sam cautiously stood up and approached him.

“Echo 12-”, Sam began.

12, in an instant, was up and had Sam by the throat. He threw Sam up against a wall still choking him with only one hand.

“Fucker…Echo..12…stop! You’re supposed..to watch me!”

12 dipped his head to the side slightly then let Sam go. Sam slid to the ground choking for air as 12 seemed to simply stare off into space. He observed his fallen comrade then stood and stared at Sam. Sam, now angry, kicked Echo 12 in the shin as hard as he could. Echo 12 jumped back and growled in pain but did not retaliate. Sam climbed to his feet and glared at 12.

“Command, this is Echo 12. Do we escort the subject to the original location?”

12 paused for a moment and then continued, “Copy Echo 12, proceed as normal.”

Sam stared at him in confusion, “You just answered yourself.”

Echo 12 stared at Sam further and began to search for something. Sam figured it was weapons.

“They’re gone. An ATC Security Guard took them after he shot your…coworker there.”

Echo 12 didn’t seem to hear him.

“Psst…there gone Echo 12. He would have shot you if I hadn’t of stood here and convinced him otherwise.”

Echo 12 stared at Sam further. Sam, regardless of his fear, was growing agitated.

“Hey, why aren’t you saying anything? I also took care of the wound on your leg; you would have bled to death if I didn’t.”

Still, Echo 12 wandered the hallway aimlessly looking for weapons he would never find. Sam shrugged, mustered up more courage, and started walking off down the hallway.

“Halt!”, Echo 12 shouted.

Sam took a deep breath, grew a pair of balls and rounded on 12, “Fuck you jackass!”

Echo 12 stood and stared at Sam further.

“You’re crazy. You’re answering yourself! You don’t have a gun so I’m not going anywhere with you! You’re not going to beat me down because you can’t carry me with your knee in that condition so, since you have hit me, kicked me, and beat me with your rifle I’m going to leave you down here and I hope that ATC guard comes back and kills you, you murderin’ psychopath! Furthermore, I hope that rat comes back and chews your face off!”

With Sam’s breathless tirade, he turned and continued on his way.

“Halt!”, Echo 12 shouted again.

“Go die somewhere!”

“Wait.”, Echo 12 called back.

Well, that was a different response. Sam stopped, “Do you not understand normal thinking? Are you retarded when it comes to anything but killing?”

“I have no response from Command.”, Echo 12 said. The statement carried a comedic undertone of child like confusion.

Sam sniggered and thought a moment, “Do you understand me?”

“Copy.”

“Why can’t you just talk?”

Echo 12 stood there, and Sam gathered that he was somehow not able to communicate properly. He didn’t know why but it was like he was socially retarded, as if he didn’t know anything about life at all. But, he could curse like it was nobody’s business.

“Are you going to hurt me anymore Echo 12?”

“Negative. Only if you attempt you flee”

“Can you sit down there.”, Sam said as he pointed to the bench.

“Copy.”, Echo 12 said as he sat down slowly.

Sam, approaching the situation as if he was talking to a five year old, approached 12 and kneeled in front of him. Sam built up the fortitude to look 12 in the visor. He did, and felt sick but pressed on.

“Okay, you saved me when you…terminated…that…hmm…uh…enemy back their okay, you saved my life do you understand that?”

There was a pause then, “Copy.”

“You don’t have to say Copy. Just say okay.”

“Copy.”

Sam groaned, “No, just say okay.”

A long pause, “Okay.”

“Good. Now, I repaired your leg.”, Sam said as he poked the knee, “I helped you, so can you help me?”

“Okay.”

“Why did you answer yourself?”

“We have to contact command that is procedure.”

“You are not a collective. You”, Sam said as he poked his chest, “You are an individual, okay, you can say ‘I’”

“Okay.”

“Is your commander dead?”

“We don’t know.”

Sam sighed again, a little more loudly, “No, do you know if your commander is dead?”

“Don’t know.”

Sam gritted his teeth, “Oh good lord, Echo 12, say that I don’t know!”

There was a long hesitation, “I don’t know.”

“Can you walk?”

“Yes.”

Sam observed his surroundings for a moment. The tunnel they were standing in seemed to be a maintenance access of some sort. He knew he hadn’t seen any yellow tiled tunnels on all his other trips through the subway. The thought of travel made him remember his car way back at the ATC parking garage. He had driven it in this morning. Sam shook his head in a mixture of fatigue and hopelessness. His watch had stopped; the crystal had apparently smashed against something in one of the frays freezing the hands at 6am. Not only was it dead, it was now broken. He didn’t know what time it was, he didn’t even know where he was.

After a mournful sigh, Sam proceeded down the hallway followed by the heavy footfalls of Echo 12. As he rounded the corner on a junction with all other sides gated off, he was greeted with a bizarre strobing red light that was cascading over the hallway. Its source, a crooked and brightly lit exit sign with leaking water cascading over it that seemed to be hanging merely from its wiring. Sam blinked and turned his head away from the mesmerizing color display and headed for a gaping doorway. The door had apparently popped from its hinges when the frame warped. A deep and jagged crack above the doorframe hinted at the magnitude of the explosion. Beyond the doorway, dimly lit stairs greeted him. With a sideways glance at Echo 12, Sam proceeded up the stairs. The top of the stairs exited into a store room, littered with toppled shelves and scattered cleaning chemicals and bits of dismantled machinery. The fluorescent lights hung at different angles, casting bizarre shadows over the room. Sam hesitated then moved past some buzzing electrical panels, whose odd tone of hum indicated some overload somewhere.

An office was to the front of the room next to a red exit door. Sam looked longingly at the telephone on the desk then realized it was probably dead anyway. As he peered into the office, a wide and irregular trail of blood led to an orange jumpsuit-ed maintenance worker who, judging by the splatter marks of blood on the wall and the holes in his chest he had been shot. The dead man’s glazed eyes stared at the ceiling. Sam shuddered and fought back tears of sheer disgust. He rounded on Echo 12 with anger in his eyes.

“Why!”, he demanded as he pointed a quavering finger at the body.

Echo 12 seemed confused and offered no reply.

“Why shoot everybody! What possible reason is there for shooting just plain people….just people doing their jobs, not soldiers!”

Echo 12’s flat reply came back, “Orders were to eliminate all presences.”

Sam deflated out of tiredness. He was so tired, his eyes ached, his body ached, and his head was killing him. Yelling at Echo 12, he realized, was just as effective as yelling at a dog.

“Why do I wonder? You’re just programmed to do it.”

Sam pulled the door open to reveal a control room for the subway system. Surprisingly the only signs of life in the entire room were scattered papers and coffee cups. Sam peered over the control station and observed flickering controls, telephone receivers hanging off their hooks, monitors buzzing and full of static. What caught his eye was the massive board at the front of the room with a giant map of the city and all of its train lines. Some flickered green, others were lined in red. Sam skittered past chairs and observed the board. A white light indicated “Central Control”, from there Sam was able to determine that he would have to either navigate through tunnels to reach the Orange Line adjacent to his apartment complex, or take the streets. Either way, he was at least a few miles from home.

He memorized the route as best he could and then headed to a lounge area adjacent to the control room. There, he found a shattered vending machine. Realizing that he was also hungry, he quickly grabbed up a beefy jerky stick, ripped off its wrapper and devoured it. After having done that, he also located a 24 hour maintenance department complete with bunk beds. He was tired, and at this point he didn’t care whether Echo 12 ran off, or followed him. Sam lay down on the bed then rolled over facing the doorway. Echo 12 watched curiously, his head leaned forward in observation.

“I’m resting, so don’t expect me to bend to your will.”, Sam said in irritation.

Not surprising there was no response. Instead, Echo 12 chose a bunk and decided that rest was also in order. He laid on his back, issued a long sigh that sounded tinny through his helmet. Sam drifted into a sleep rather quickly, his rest speckled with horror filled dreams of bodies riddled with bullets, blood dripping off walls, blood covered soldiers skittering about in carnage. He awoke suddenly, covered in a cold sweat. He immediately rose from his bunk and hurried to a sink. There, he coaxed a thin stream of cold water from the tap and splashed it quickly on his face. Grabbing a handful of paper towels, he dried slowly and tossed them aside then cupped some water in his hands and drank it greedily. He stood there, breathing deep and slow till everything settled in once again. Sam looked up at the crooked mirror and realized he looked so much older now. Out of the corner of the mirror, Echo 12 stood by the doorway to the bunk room. Sam’s eyes traced up his legs, past his blood spattered chest armor until his eyes came to rest on a head, minus a helmet and balaclava. 

Sam was startled and spun around quickly, keeping his hands gripped on the counter top to his back. He stared at a human face. His mind had formulated an image of a Terminator like cyborg, half its face missing to reveal a chrome bone structure and wires. Instead, he gazed wide eyed into clear green eyes set under black eyebrows. The skin was pale and was topped with hair as short as peach fuzz. The facial structure was masculine, with hard cheekbones and a stiff jaw line. The lips were thin, almost as if he was keeping them drawn in. Overall, he wasn’t unattractive and was, in fact, attractive in that rugged way. If it were on different terms, Sam might be hitting on him.

Sam swallowed hard, “I can’t believe you’re actually human.”

The eyebrows went up yet the rest of the face remained placid before finally responding, “We are human.”

Sam glowered, “With the things that you have done….you might as well not be. You’re barbaric, and whoever made you should be…”

Sam trailed off, unable to think of a punishment severe enough. 

“Why are you still here?”, Sam asked quickly.

The response came quickly, “I have standing orders.”

Sam snorted, “And regardless that your commander is dead you intend to protect me from potential rescuers and follow me wherever I go?”

Echo 12 cocked his head in thought, and blinked a few times before responding, “I intend to take you to command.”

“You are not taking me anywhere. I am going home, and then I am going to take my other car and drive out of this city and away from you and everything else here.”

Echo 12 approached Sam slowly. He kept his distance of about ten feet then crossed his arms. The gloved fingers of his right hand drummed slowly on his upper arm.

“I have no choice. You will comply.”

Sam straightened and glared evenly into 12’s green eyes. The muscles around his eyes tightened almost unnoticeably, as if matching the emotion of Sam’s eyes. The human act made Sam look away from him.

“You do have a choice. Just don’t follow me, go…home…or wherever you came from.”

12 shifted his weight off his injured knee. Judging by his body language, he was confused. By Sam’s estimation, it was as if new brain activity was awaking within 12 with every statement. 12 leaned forward, “You intend to proceed solo and risk attack from enemy combatants?”

Sam sneered, “No, I intend to proceed to the nearest American soldier and have him take me out of here. If I don’t find one then I will go home and drive out of here.”

“There are no enemy combatants in the area that you will find. They have been eliminated, all you will encounter is Replica forces and you will be recaptured or terminated.”, 12 said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Sam leaned back against the counter, “No, I won’t find Replica forces! Your commander is dead and you may very well be the only one that is still up and moving. Therefore, I intend on leaving!”

Confusion, it was pleasing to see on 12’s face. It was almost childlike, the furrowed brow line, the clenched jaw and wandering eyes. Sam derived some pleasure from seeing his former captor losing his grip.

“Besides”, Sam began, “You have beaten me, kicked me, abused me and subjected me to observe unspeakable acts. I want you to stay away from me, go set yourself on fire, get hit by a truck, or simply realize that you SUCK at life and should give up!”

12’s drumming hand tightened into a fist, so tight that Sam heard the material squeak. The brows were still furrowed, the jaw lowered slightly and the eyes narrowed in anger. Sam began to feel his blood pressure rise as he sensed an oncoming flurry of blows from 12. 

“You had to comply. There is no need for you to be escorted closely any further. You will not be subjected to physical intervention any further. I intend to ensure that you are not terminated.”

12’s response was still fairly emotionless but it held and underlined iciness that had not been present ever before. Echo 12 looked angry. Sam guessed that maybe he was feeling the same hopelessness that he felt, or maybe it was because he was alone and just now realized it. Whatever it was, 12 was insistent that he was going to follow Sam wherever he went. 

“So you want to follow me?”, Sam asked, amused.

12 blinked some more, “No, they’re standing orders.”

“Bullshit, you want to because….you don’t want to be alone!”, Sam said with as much obnoxious tone as he could muster.

12 glowered further, “They are orders!”

“Right, you are a terrible liar for a genetic whatever you are!”, Sam added as he waited at the exit.

Sam watched from the doorway as 12 put his equipment back on. He wondered what he was going to do with him, maybe he would lose him or maybe he would just ditch him when he got home. Either way, at least he had company even if it was with a big, angry, genetically modified super soldier. 

Chapter 5  
Homeward Bound

Sam navigated through the twisting and dimly lit tunnels until he finally reached the King Street Station. He sighed in relief and stepped out into the terminal. He nearly vomited again as a bloody war zone greeted him. Dead ATC security guards, along with dead Replica’s littered the platform. Spent brass was everywhere along with scorch marks from grenades, twisted benches and other debris. Mutilated body parts were also strewn about bloody and burned with broken joints and shredded flesh hanging off the bones. There were also weapons everywhere. Before Sam could react to get past the carnage Echo 12 had an assault rifle. Sam panicked suddenly, and without thinking grabbed up a pistol. The hand still clutching it fell off with a sickening wet noise. Sam shakily pointed it at 12 as he backed away from him.

“Drop it Echo 12!”, Sam shouted.

Echo 12 simply shouldered the rifle and stared at Sam. He didn’t move he was stock still.

“Damn it, I said put it down! I don’t trust you just drop it!”, Sam yelled breathlessly. His heart was racing and his blood pounded in his ears.

“I am not going to harm you. If I am to protect you then I require a weapon. This would be the most logical way to proceed.”

Sam wasn’t buying it, “I don’t care! I don’t want you to have it! I have seen what you do with guns! I hate guns! I’ve seen enough death so please just do it!”

Echo 12 approached Sam slowly. Sam’s hand shook and his finger tapped ever so gently against the trigger. It moved slightly, but didn’t fire. 

“Get back! I will shoot you 12 so just stop moving!”, Sam shouted through his constrained voice. He began to feel tears well up in his eyes.

Echo 12 did not stop moving, Sam blinked and in that moment Echo 12 was in front of him, the barrel of the pistol resting against his chest plate. 12’s right hand moved up and grabbed the pistol and tugged it free from Sam’s shaky grip. 12 holstered it and stood gazing down at Sam. Tears sprang forward from Sam’s eyes and he finally sat down against the terminal wall and cried out of sheer terror at what he had been ready to do. Sure, he reasoned, 12 should be killed but was he even aware of what he had done? Was he aware of the world, its laws, and crimes against humanity? Everything Sam had observed indicated that Echo 12 simply acted on orders with no other sense of right and wrong until now. Before, 12 would have shot him; instead he took the weapon from Sam rather gently and without recourse.

Sam wept pitifully, then grew angry and quickly wiped his tears away and stared up at 12. His reflection in the black visor irritated him and he stared instead at a destroyed newspaper machine. For what seemed like forever, Sam said nothing and Echo 12 simply stood just inches from him. Sam imagined how awful it would have been to shoot 12. With his luck it wouldn’t kill him instantly and he would suffer, and Sam would realize that regardless of what 12 was, it was still murder and he couldn’t bear to have that on his conscious. He was glad 12 had done what he had done; it was the most human act he had performed yet.

“Thank you for…stopping me the way you did… I’m sorry, I just didn’t know what you were doing. It’s been so terrible, I just want to get out of here.”, Sam said quietly.

“I have no intention of harming you. And I will take you out of the immediate area.”, Echo 12 said quietly. With that he offered a hand down to Sam.

Sam observed the hand then finally took it. In one effortless movement 12 had him on his feet and on their way up the stairs and out of the station.

Chapter 6  
Resurface

A jumbo jet had made King Street a runway. The scorched and warped fuselage carried the American Airlines lettering. Sam stared at it in amazement, and then his eyes looked around at the sheer destruction.

Down the street and towards the East River, a massive plume of smoke was rising somewhere past the harbor. The street was littered with cars, downed power lines, shattered masonry, broken glass and broken bodies. The scene was apocalyptic, as if a massive force had swept through the city. Ash fell like snow, and the sky was an angry sooty red. No breeze, just the sounds of buildings settling in with their present state. Sam was held in awe at the destruction. It was awful, terrifying. He moved backwards and into 12, who simply stood without moving.

“12, what happened? You have to know something.”, Sam asked quietly.

12’s deep voice was loud behind him, “Negative, but it appears to have been a nuclear blast.”

“Nuclear. Like radiation? My god, I have to get out of here.”, Sam stumbled forward and proceeded to walk down the street that just this morning had reminded him of Main Street USA. That’s what he liked about it when he transferred here from the St. Louis office. It reminded him of home, his home as in his parents’ house in Philadelphia. Sam walked silently, moving past destroyed cars and viciously destroyed building facades. The cars were blackened as if they had been blowtorched, as were the bodies littering the streets. At the intersection of King and Lamont, Sam was getting ready to climb over a smashed police car. He was in such a trance that he didn’t even notice the armored and blue visored ATC extermination force on the other side.

Sam looked up; the soldier saw him and shouted to the rest, “It’s the accountant!”

Sam was about the say something when he saw the soldier level his weapon at him. But 12 was still frosty, and instantly threw Sam to the side while at the same time he lobbed a grenade over the car and into the group. The soldiers shouted and in that instant could be heard taking cover. The grenade detonated, showering debris all over. Echo 12 kneeled beside Sam and proceeded to pump rounds into the fray. It lasted what seemed like an eternity. Fire, return fire, 12 ducking, and then returning fire. Rounds blasted and ricochet around their cover spot. Finally, one of the soldiers got the idea to return a grenade. Sam was dimly aware of it landing on the hood of the car. In another instant, 12 grabbed Sam, pressed him against his chest and rolled with sickening velocity away from the car and into the trench of a collapsed storm drain. There was a fall, but Echo 12 made sure that the impact was on him. He impacted the sloped side of the tunnel, rolled a short distant, then finally came to rest with Sam against the ground and him on top, still keeping him pressed tightly into him.

The police car, its warped and blistered mass, was flipped over from the grenade blast and came to rest over the opening of the storm drain. Once again, they were trapped below the street. Sam’s ears continued ringing from the blast, but eventually came to a dull hum and all he could now hear was the heavy breathing of 12 and rapidly beating hearts; his own and 12’s. It was then that Sam realized his position, and that he now had the weight of 12 pressing down against him. Anyone else would have wriggled away and regained their dignity but Sam didn’t because now, after everything that happened, after all the death and horror, he felt safe embraced tightly in the arms of a man that just saved his life once again. Sam normalized his breathing and came aware of another sense, his sense of smell. It was the smell of sweat that he noticed earlier on 12 but upon closer analysis it also contained the musky scent of a male. It was reassuring, pleasant, and safe. Sam laid there without speaking, without moving, until 12 finally tried to stand up. Without thinking, Sam grabbed the sides of 12’s bulletproof vest and pulled him back.

“I don’t think they’re gone yet.” he lied. In reality he wasn’t ready to lose that sense of safety.

Echo 12 moved again after a moment, “We are safe. We need to continue.”, he said slowly as he pulled Sam to his feet. Sam followed him without complaint, humorously aware that that was the most erotic thing that had happened to him in four years.

The tunnel proceeded for a block or so. Sam observed shopping carts and other refuse littering the tunnels, remnants of homeless dwelling. At the end of the tunnel, they took a ladder that let out onto a street Sam recognized. They were close now; his home was only a few blocks from the Holiday Inn that was in front of them. The hotel was one of those limited service locations just under the interstate. The interstate, all hopes of driving out of the city in the most direct route were shattered as Sam observed what was left of the interstate. The interstate was shattered in places; some sections were missing for blocks. Above the hotel, a section of it had destroyed the portico. The Holiday Inn logo was still clinging to the building, dimly lit but still on. Sam then realized that his forehead was bleeding from an apparent impact with 12’s helmet. 

Sam sighed, and headed for a shattered window for a first floor room. 12 called to him and Sam simply replied with sarcasm, “I’m getting a room tonight.”

“We must continue before we are pursued.”, Echo 12 replied.

Sam ignored him and stepped into a double room. From there, he stepped into the dimly lit hallway. The familiar smell of a hotel greeted him, as did the gaping double doors of the housekeeping department. Echo 12 followed Sam as he stepped into the laundry room. There, a deep sink sat dripping water. Sam headed for it and proceeded to wash his head with water that was still vaguely warm. He sought out a towel, dried his head and looked around the room. He smiled as he observed a small shower for overnight hotel employees.

“12. I’m going to take a shower and ditch these damn clothes.”

“There’s no time for that.”, Echo 12 growled.

Sam shot 12 a sidelong glance, “You can wait. In fact, when I’m done you need to get in there. You stink.”

Sam stripped regardless of 12’s presence and stepped into the shower. The tepid water was enough for him to quickly clean, and be done. He stepped out, dried, and then dressed into a set of maintenance coveralls. His shoes, fortunately, were against company policy, and were sneakers so at least he wasn’t wearing dress shoes with blue coveralls. He mused with himself, “Well, at least I look somewhat decent regardless of the circumstances.”

Sam watched as Echo 12 returned from an apparent recon, “12, it’s your turn.”

“Who will watch the area?”, he demanded roughly.

“Me”, Sam smiled, “I can hold that gun and try to look scary to.”

“No.”

Sam sighed, “Echo 12, get in there or I will go wandering the streets and put myself in danger deliberately.”

Echo 12 approached him and handed him the rifle slowly, “The safety is the red switch.”

“There’s a good Replica.”

Sam walked out of the way of the shower and observed the rifle. It was heavy, and he tried his hand at aiming. He toggled the safety for good measure then observed another button. He shrugged, pushed it, and then cussed as the magazine fell out. Sam grabbed it and picked it back up. Sam felt the very light magazine and realized with a sinking feeling and a frown that it was empty. He held it, and turned to 12, “Echo 12, I hope you have another one of-”

Sam’s words froze as he turned and his eyes fell on Echo 12’s unclothed body. Sam couldn’t help but observe his well toned and muscular mass. An ATC tattoo graced his large bicep, pink surgical scars were dotted around his midsection and across his pronounced abs. Below that, Sam observed Echo 12’s manhood, and instantly turned away in flushed embarrassment. But the image lingered, it was at least two or three inches above average size even un-erect, circumcised, and nestled against very short black pubic hair. Sam’s mind fell to the gutter and regardless of the circumstances he was aware of his sudden primal attraction to Echo 12.

“I know the weapon is empty.”, Echo 12 said before stepping into the shower. Sam turned around and gave a sigh of relief. To busy himself further he gathered up 12’s filthy uniform and undergarments and tossed them into the deep sink. He washed them with a bar of soap, rinsed them, rang them dry with his hands, and then tossed them into one of the large commercial electric dryers. Regardless of the city’s crippled power grid, it seemed to still hold on. 12 showered quickly, and Sam was there to greet him with a bath towel. 12 grabbed it and proceeded to dry. Sam turned away quickly.

“Where is my uniform.”, 12 demanded.

“Uh…in the dryer.”

“These bandages will need to be changed.”

“Okay, just cover up and I’ll fix it.”

Sam grabbed a med kit off the wall, and re-gauzed 12’s knee. This time, he did it gently. He couldn’t help but run his fingers down 12’s firm calf muscle, but then just as quickly he jerked his hand away.

“It’s good now.”, Sam said quietly. He checked the dryer, found the garments to be mostly dry, and then handed them over to 12. He dressed quickly, replaced all of his armor and helmet, laced his boots and was ready to proceed. Sam explored deeper into the room and discovered in addition to the shower there was a bunk bed in a room that exited to the lobby. Sam brushed broken glass, from the shattered light fixture, off of the bed and lay down. Echo 12 sighed heavily, “We have rested once already.”

“Which may be perfectly well and good for a soldier but I’m not like you 12, and I’m tired. My home is close, the freeway is destroyed, and it’s going to take us even longer to get out of this damn city. So, a couple hours won’t matter and besides you’ve done a lot so just relax.”

12 climbed into the bunk above Sam, removed his helmet and balaclava and then didn’t move. Sam drifted off into a better nap, one filled with thoughts of escape and 12 wearing nothing and holding him tight again. Sam was vaguely aware of how guilty it was for his mind to produce that, but then again 12 was protecting him and without any further orders. It was as if he was choosing to do it. Maybe he was making up for what he did to Sam without even noticing. Sam was jerked from sleep suddenly as 12 jumped in next to him, shoving him back against the wall. Sam’s face was jammed under 12’s for a moment until the heavy, scratchy wool blanket was thrown over both of them. Sam was about to protest when he heard the voices from the lobby.

“Colonel Vanek, we are in the Holiday Inn on Lamont St. No sign of the accountant or the Replica.”, a soldiers voice echoed across the lobby.

A crackle of static then, “Copy that Sanders, if you find them just kill em’ both and get it over with. We can’t have him getting out of this city with that piece of Armacham liability.”

“Yes sir.”

Sam was again pressed hard under 12’s weight but even the dirty part of his mind was stalled considering the current situation. They were without ammunition, and Sam was confident that not even 12 could fight them all off with his bare hands. The soldier in the lobby could be heard pushing the door open, but luckily the bunk was behind the door and they were thoroughly enshrouded in darkness. The soldier searched the room but seemed to consider the mound behind the door to be laundry. Besides, what reason would he have to believe that a Replica was hiding with another man under a blanket in a hotel laundry room? He moved on, indicating on his radio that the laundry was clear and that he was proceeding to the second floor.

For what seemed like an eternity, they laid there until they were positive that the soldiers had left. 12 shifted, and reared his head up to peek out through the blanket. Sam barely noticed, the only thing he could notice was that 12 was on him again and again he liked it. Echo 12 looked down squarely upon Sam’s face and grew curious as to why his eyes were closed.

“It’s clear, there’s no need to have your eyes shielded.”

Sam opened his eyes, and stared into 12’s green eyes. They looked less hard this time, almost friendly. A sudden urge came over Sam, and before he was aware he had even done it he had planted a kiss right on 12’s lips. They were slightly dry, but Sam didn’t seem to care for when he looked again at 12’s eyes they were wide with what seemed to be confusion and surprise. Sam suddenly realized what he had just done and flushed with embarrassment and fear. Fear that 12 would strangle him.

“What did you just do to me?”, he asked, slightly breathless. Sam didn’t know whether it was out of shock or fear.

Sam swallowed hard, “I’m sorry 12, I shouldn’t have done that.”

12 leaned in close, now nose to nose with Sam, “What did you do!” he demanded.

Sam blurted, “It was a kiss.”

“What is that?” 12 asked plainly, all semblance of anger gone.

Sam relaxed, “It’s a sign of affection, I just wanted to do it. You saved my life I’m just glad that you’re protecting me and not killing me.”

Echo 12 gazed down upon Sam and growled, “Do it again.”

It came as almost an order; like 12 was curious as to what it felt like and wanted more. Sam obliged, but this time it was more than a peck. Sam kissed 12 deeply, once, twice, and then the third time he locked his lips upon his and realized that 12 was now trying the same thing back. 12’s mouth had no dramatic taste, like some men’s mouths that trashy novels sometimes depicted. But regardless of that, Sam pulled delicately on 12’s lips and tasted them. Sam was numbly aware that 12’s good knee was pressed firmly on his erection. Sam stopped, and 12 simply stared into his eyes with a sort of hungry want that was all too confusing to him but 12 didn’t stop regardless of his newfound feelings. It was almost ridiculous for Sam to imagine, but it was the longest make out session he had ever experienced and to make it better he was doing it with a guy that was tall, muscle-bound, and attractive to him so it was like a dream come true. After five more minutes of 12 grinding deeply into his mouth Sam was aware that 12 was resting with a forearm on either side of him. He could feel 12’s hot and fast breath pour over his face and was aware of his fast heart. Sam pulled away, and was aware of another feeling against the top of his right leg. 

12’s rock hard erection was pressed firmly against Sam at what must have been an uncomfortable angle. Sam pulled his lips away from 12’s lamprey like mouth, but 12 pressed in closer and sought them out regardless. Sam was seized with passion, and was no longer in a mood to stop it not with this man on top of him that obviously knew nothing about pleasure. Sam continued the breathless kissing, and slipped his right hand down and under 12’s throbbing erection. Sam grabbed its full eight inches and tugged on it. 12 issued a restrained and deep moan and pulled back away from Sam. Wordlessly, Sam pushed 12 back until he was leaning with his back towards the end of the bunk. 12 moved his legs out from under himself, ignoring the pain of the injury and lay sprawled out on the bunk. Sam was upon him like a pouncing lion, and 12 didn’t fight back, instead he was limp like he was made of dough. Sam’s shaking hands grabbed the button-up fly of 12’s camouflage pants and quickly undid them. He reached in through the green, military issue briefs and extracted 12’s member, which elicited a feral moan from the Replica. 

Sam hesitated for a moment, seized the veined and heavily swelled shaft and plunged it into his mouth, swirling his tongue around its plum-like head and pulling it deeply into his mouth and throat. 12 jerked spasmodically and issued constrained throaty growls of new, raw, and unrelenting pleasure. Echo 12 thrust his hips unsteadily into Sam while at the same time seizing the sides of his head and pulling on them in a vice-like grip. Sam pressed his other hand down firmly upon 12’s testicles, which issued another loud cry of feral pleasure. In an instant, 12 came with a deep cry/growl of ecstasy followed by spasmodic thrusting. 12’s seed was hot, thick, bitter and salty but Sam stroked the shaft enticing every lost drop of the already sizeable load across his tongue and down his eagerly swallowing throat. Sam was aware that the sheer friction of him rubbing down against the mattress had elicited his own orgasm. 12, breathless, and, gasping hard, lay down and didn’t move. Sam licked every last bit of the sticky fluid from 12’s still firm shaft until it became flaccid. Sam tucked it gently back into his pants and buttoned him back up. Sam, now glowing with indescribable accomplishment, rose and cleaned himself up at the sink. In total, they spent more time kissing! After a drink of water, he returned and kissed 12 gently. 12 returned it slowly and stared in wonder into Sam’s eyes. After a moment he spoke.

“I will take you out of this city, wherever you want to go, issue the order.”

Sam stared down at 12 affectionately and stroked the side of his face gently,“Take me out of the city 12, but take me home first. You and I are going to load up some stuff of mine and we are skipping this screwed up shit. I want you to stay with me, you make me feel safe.”

12’s face flickered, “You make me feel tired and confused. I…affirmative..I will keep you.”

Sam handed 12 his helmet and balaclava, “Then let’s go, you big dork.”

Echo 12 replaced his head equipment, and they both proceeded out through the lobby. As they passed through the shattered front entrance, and continued to travel down the ruined street Sam was dimly aware of a Stockholm-like syndrome that seemed to be taking place over him. He knew it wasn’t because of his bout of captivity with Echo 12 that he was feeling affection for him. But, as Sam travelled with him and observed the way he seemed to be taking extra care to check every corner and shadow for potential enemies he realized that he wanted him around, to leave town with him, to take him wherever he went. In reality, it was more than just some crush; he was starting to like 12. But, on the flip side, there was that part of his mind that reminded him that 12 had killed people, that he had shot down American soldiers, mercilessly murdered civilians, etcetera. But, he obviously had no idea what he was doing and, as the ATC security guard implied, the Replica’s were psychically controlled. Sam let his selfishness take over, he had Echo 12, he wanted Echo 12, and intended on taking him with him whether anyone else liked it or not. As for mapping out 12’s psyche, he would save that for the coming days.

As they neared Sam’s apartment complex, Echo 12 grabbed his arms and guided him down behind a jack-knifed semi. Echo 12 pointed and indicated the ATC soldiers proceeding, in a loose gaggle of 5 men, down the street away from their location.

“Stay here.”, 12 ordered.

Sam protested instantly, “Why? What are you going to do?”

Echo 12 paused for a moment, “We require more ammunition. I will need to terminate a hostile to recover it.”

“12 I don’t want you to. I know what we need but I don’t want you killing anyone else.”

12 could be heard to sigh, “What do you suggest?”

“Evasion. Once we get my car, once we try to maneuver it down another route and out of here we’ll be alright. I don’t care if we have to climb down and through storm drains but you and are getting out of here!”, Sam said with insistence.

“As you wish.”

Sam smiled in relief.

Chapter 7  
Escape from Auburn

The apartment building was in surprisingly intact condition save for cracked stucco and broken windows. Eerily, there wasn’t another tenant in sight. It was what Sam had wondered this entire time, where were all the people? A city of nearly 300,000 and not another living soul in sight except combatants made Sam feel that there was a supernatural edge to this whole affair. Happy to be home, Sam slipped past the faux marble concierge’s desk and bounded quickly up the stairs. Echo 12 followed quickly, reaching Sam’s apartment door just as quickly as he had. On the inside, Sam’s belongings were scattered about with broken picture frames, toppled shelves and cracked walls. Quickly and with fervor, Sam grabbed his gym bag and stuffed it with clothes, snack foods, other assorted amenities. Lastly, he grabbed a photo album, his Mercedes keys, and kissed the place goodbye. On Echo 12’s suggestion, they stole down the rear stairs to the parking garage. 

Through the shadows they lurked and, finding the exit ramp clear, Sam sought out his treasured vehicle. He had bought it at auction, operating under the belief that all ATC employees that wanted to be somebody had a Mercedes. So he bought it. It was black, sleak, and contained an overpowered V6 with a rated top end of 140 MPH. It was excessive, and he rarely drove it. He loosened the keys from his pocket and headed for the drivers door but Echo 12 stopped him.

“I’ll drive.”

Sam sniggered, “You don’t know how to drive.”

“I do. I was trained extensively in combat driving and in armored vehicle operation.”, Echo 12 said proudly.

“Yeah, but this is a sports car.”

“I know.”

Sam shrugged and handed him the keys. Once inside, Sam adjusted the seat for 12 and buckled in. Before 12 could start the car, Sam couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of an armored Replica behind the wheel of his Mercedes. 

“What?”, Echo 12 asked.

“Oh, nothing, just get us out of here and on Lincoln Street, it crosses the far bend of the East River. I think it was far enough away that it won’t be in the same condition as the interstate.”

Echo 12 started the engine and maneuvered the car out of the parking garage. The street was an obstacle course, and much to Sam’s displeasure, the car was scraped numerous times. But, as they drew closer to Lincoln Street he became more and more immune to the cars damage. As they rounded the curve around what was once the Central Mall, now reduced to shattered glass and dead landscaping, Sam’s hopes sank when he saw that part of the street had collapsed and separated. Echo 12, however, kept driving for a moment then stopped.

“It’s possible.”, he whispered quietly.

Sam tensed, “What is?”

“You see the street has separated, but the section before the break is jutting up. We can ramp it.”

Sam summed up the situation, “Oh my God. I don’t know…Echo 12…I-”

Echo 12 silenced him, “Trust me.”

It came as an insistent order. Sam nodded, now placing his life in 12’s hands again. He tightened his seatbelt and checked 12’s before nodding with the go ahead. Echo 12 lined the car up, and pressed the accelerator to the floor. The engine roared with performance engineering, and the tachometer soared into the red. The rear tires squealed and the car lurched forward with rollercoaster-like force. Before they hit the “ramp” they were doing 70!

The car left the ramp, and rose about twelve feet in the air. For a moment, it was like slow motion as they sailed through the air, over the 20 or so feet of broken street chasm. Time suddenly loosened its restraints, and the car was descending gracefully and came into contact with the good section of the street with considerable force regardless of their plane like landing. The car bottomed, hood inclined first, causing the bumper to disconnect and come sailing over the vehicle along with the right and left headlight assemblies. Sam yelled in adrenaline flushed terror, and didn’t release his vice like grip on 12’s leg until the car stopped.

“Holy shit! That was fucking terrifying!”, Sam yelled.

Beyond the windshield, the cracked and otherwise passable street beckoned to them. Sam smiled at the billboard that artfully showed downtown with the words, “You are now leaving Auburn, the Progress City. We will miss you!”

“Its not over yet.”

“What?”

Echo 12 pointed out the rear window. Sam craned around to observe a humvee come over the same way. Its impact was much more “graceful”, the vehicles large tires absorbing the impact. Once it was on the street it stopped, and Sam was suddenly aware of the 50 caliber machine gun that was protruding from the back being operated by an ATC soldier.

“Drive! Fucking step on it 12!”

12 complied, and the German engineered power plant roared with renewed vigor and the car was off. The hummer was quickly left in the rearview mirror, but the bullets were not outrun. The rear window shattered, sending safety glass pouring over the cabin. 12’s large right hand grabbed the back of Sam’s head and forced him down towards the dashboard. 12’s boot was glued to the accelerator and it to the floor. The speedometer rose over 110MPH, and in no time they were out of practical shooting range. Sam forced himself back up and couldn’t help a cry of joy as the East River was crossed. Auburn, its shattered and smoke shrouded hulk was quickly in the rear distance.

“12, exit on Northland Pike, and head for Oregon 5!”, Sam shouted. No, he practically screamed it as an ATC helicopter rose above the dark pine tree line. ATC soldiers hung on it, guns jutting out of its cabin and aimed towards them. Again, 12 pushed the car. Gun fire tracked across the truck lid, obliterating the rear lights. At over 110 MPH, the exit for Oregon State Road 5 could not be taken at their present speed. The brakes were applied hard, and the chopper sailed right over them, and careened around for their next pass. 12 threw the wheel over and punched the accelerator, fish tailing the car up the ramp and onto 5. Sam barely noticed that even SR 5 was derelict.

Once on the straightway, the Mercedes unwound and topped 128 MPH. The median lines looked like dots! But, they couldn’t break away from the military chopper. The only thing that spared them an obliterating barrage of bullets was the overhanging trees and a sudden overpass. For a moment, Sam thought they might be able to lose them until they saw the roadblock. It wasn’t ATC, it wasn’t Replica’s, it was the Oregon State Police.

The cruisers were on either side of the road, choking the passage down to a few feet. Troopers were poised behind their cars, guns aimed at the Mercedes. It was time for chicken, and at this point Sam didn’t care what happened to the car. He knew he was safe, and he would rather die in blazing glory with Echo 12 than stop and risk being arrested and have ATC either kill them both or spare Sam and kill 12. No, it wasn’t going to happen!

“Don’t stop 12! Fuck em’ all!”

The Mercedes did not stop, and the troopers hesitated before firing. In an instant, before they could fire more than twice, they were moving their cars! Not fast enough! The Mercedes lost its passenger side mirror, and the driver side front corner struck a cruiser, sending it spinning around and down the embankment. But, their Bonnie and Clyde style rampage was coming to an end. Their impact with the cruiser shattered the corner of the car and the coolant reservoir. It took a moment, but the uncontrolled hemorrhaging of the radiator overheated the engine in a matter of moments. But 12 did not stop; instead he pushed the car for what it was left with and aimed towards the embankment and the East River. Sam screamed, and 12 slammed his arm across Sam’s chest in restraint as the car careened down the embankment, smashing through saplings and underbrush before leaping off the bank of the river and into the middle of it. Water rushed over the car and shattered the windshield. Sam filled his lungs with air before the icy water washed over him. He was aware of 12 removing his seatbelt, and in a moment he was pulled through the undercurrent with him. 

He was sure he was going to drown, but 12 was already surfacing and was pulling him towards a muddy bank enshrouded with underbrush. Sam paddled towards the bank, and with all his strength pulled himself up onto it and into the forest. Echo 12 followed, and wordlessly headed as quickly as he could into the trees. Sam followed, his entire body was numb but adrenaline steered him on for what seemed like miles. He stumbled over uneven ground but kept up with Echo 12’s relentless gate. Suddenly they stopped, and Echo 12 grabbed Sam to steady him.

“Here, we can stop here.”

Sam dimly was aware of a deserted hunting cabin, and the fact that they were steering towards it. The door was opened and Echo 12 pulled Sam in and quickly shut the door. Sam slipped away from Echo 12, and collapsed on a dusty bed. The cabin was obviously not abandoned, just closed up for the hunting season and surprisingly clean. Sam was now aware of his chattering teeth. He was freezing cold. Echo 12 approached him and ordered him to remove his wet clothes. Sam numbly did as was instructed, and shucked his wet clothes, shoes, everything. 12 tore the coverings back and pushed Sam inside of them and quickly covered him up.

Sam twisted around and faced Echo 12. His visor was cracked, and he was dripping wet. He was trying to stop himself, but he was shivering as well.

“12, get in here. I want you to keep me warm.”, Sam spoke meekly.

12 sat down on the edge of the bed, pulled his boots off and proceeded to strip down to bareness. Sam was in no condition to be interested, even as 12 slipped in beside him, pressing himself against Sam. He slipped an arm under Sam’s pillow, the other he used to pull him tight towards him. Sam, now quickly growing warm and enveloped in 12’s size, dozed off to sleep. He wasn’t aware of how long he slept, just that it was comfortable. He awoke to rain pattering against the glass and to the steady warm breath on the back of his neck. Simply by feel he could tell that 12 had nestled his head down and against the back of Sam’s head. Sam was still held tight, and he smiled as he dozed back to sleep.

He awoke later that day to a cold chill as Echo 12 left the bed. Sam twisted around, groggy but quickly waking up. Echo 12 pulled his mostly dry clothes back on and turned to observe Sam.

“We need to continue.”

Sam sat up and sighed, “My aunt lives in Portland. We are four hours from there and we can’t very well walk.”

“We can acquire a vehicle.”

Sam snorted, “We can’t just steal it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to add any real crimes to our escape. Leaving the city isn’t a crime, leaving ATC isn’t a crime, stealing you was a crime.”

Echo 12 shuffled about, “You could contact this aunt. Request a pick-up.”

“You’re so technical. But if we can get to a payphone or heck even a cell phone we could pull that off. Wait til she gets a load of you!”

Echo 12 handed Sam his clothes, “They are dry enough.”

Sam dressed and thought to himself. What if they took 12 back? He was ATC property but then again what they did was so illegal that the very word illegal couldn’t possibly cover what they had done. Maybe they would just let them vanish into obscurity, considering what Echo 12 was. Then there was just that, Echo 12. Sam cared for him, wanted him. Heck, he could hardly wait to show him off to this Aunt Wynne. But what if Echo 12 was only responding to the pleasure Sam had introduced him to? What if he couldn’t feel things like affection, closeness….love? The thought depressed Sam, made him feel stupid for their moment of intimacy back in Auburn. He was growing angry at himself for letting his feelings get the best of him. He felt as if he had taken advantage of 12, when 12 had no real care about him other than a sense of needing to protect him, or was that a new feeling that 12 had? Echo 12 hadn’t even used his name yet! Sam glared at his shoes as he pulled them on roughly. Sam cussed at them as his hands slipped on the laces.

“Are you having difficulties?”, Echo 12 inquired flatly.

“No!”, Sam snapped back, a little too sharply.

12 stared at him for a moment and said nothing before turning back to the window. Sam stood up and glared at 12’s back.

“Why don’t you use my name?”, Sam demanded.

Echo 12 turned back around, “I was never given permission.”

“After what we did you think I had to give you permission to use my name?”, Sam asked, incredulous.

“Yes.”

“Well start calling me Sam!”, Sam snapped once more.

Echo 12’s eyes narrowed and his lips thinned further, “Are you injured? You are belligerent, is it pain?”

“No, I’m not hurt. I just don’t understand you!”

“Is there something I was not clear on?”

Sam was trying to avoid this conversation considering their current circumstances, but he quickly forgot his reservations.

“Yes! You’re feelings if you have any!”

“I feel.”

“I’m not talking about the sense of feel, I mean emotions! Anger, fear, anticipation, affection, love! Those things!”

Echo 12 cast his eyes around the room, “No, at least not normally. I have feelings I cannot understand. I don’t know them well enough to recognize them, in time I will come to. I am referring to myself as ‘I’, isn’t that what you wanted?”

Sam rubbed his eyes in frustration, “Yes, but I want to know if you feel some kind of thing that I feel. I liked what I did for you back at Auburn, you liked the kissing obviously. But I don’t want you to feel that you can do that stuff with just anyone.”

The thoughts of the events at the Holiday Inn brought a tingling sensation to his skin. The very thought of it begged him to attack Echo 12 again, and sink himself into his lips.

Echo 12 edged his legs around, “I want to do that again. With you, I follow you, no one else. You are my only point of contact. That will not change. I clearly stated that it wouldn’t.”

Sam’s hopefulness returned, “So you won’t leave me? You’ll come stay with me?”

Echo 12 seemed frustrated, “I clearly stated that I would.”

Echo 12 finally moved over to Sam and stepped in close to him. Sam hugged him immediately and laid his face against his armored chest. 12 didn’t immediately respond but he eventually wrapped his large arms around Sam. Sam closed his eyes and listened to his steady heart. Okay, he was convinced that he was infatuated with 12. Sam looked up into 12’s face, only to be kissed immediately. If anything, 12 had gotten that down pat. It was threatening to turn into a heavy make out session when 12’s breathing started to get heavy. Sam pulled away and kissed 12’s stubbled cheek, “We have to go.”

“Not yet.”, 12 said quietly.

“We have practically forever. But they won’t stop searching for us until we get out of here so let’s go.”

Echo 12 looked into Sam’s eyes with a touch of urgency, “This tightness in my groin is uncomfortable. It’s a pressure.”

Sam observed the tight bulge in 12’s camouflage and the knowledge of what lie behind it made his mouth water with want.

“12, let’s get safe first and I will do things for you that you can’t possibly imagine. I promise, but now, let’s get the hell out of here.”

Echo 12 pulled away from Sam and headed for the door in agreement. He checked that it was quiet and clear before he departed. Sam followed behind him. They eventually found the river again and on Sam’s suggestion followed it until they found the highway. Staying off the road and in the forest was difficult but practical. Until 12 got new cloths he stuck out like a sore thumb and was sure to grab attention. By nightfall, Sam came upon a small diner/liquor store off to the side of the road. Sam instructed 12 to wait in the shrubs. Sam spied a payphone and rushed towards it. Damn. No change. He almost lost hope, and then remembered Collect!

He dialed it, dialed his aunt and waited. After a few long rings, she answered with desperation in her voice.

“Sammy! Oh my god, I saw on the news what happened! They said it was a terrorist attack, and they had to wait for radiation levels before they could go in to start rescue! You’re parents were in a tizzy! I’m so glad you’re all right!”

“So that’s what they’re saying!”

She sounded confused, “They? Said what?”

“Nothing, Aunt Wynne, listen. I need help and I can’t explain on the phone, and you have to promise that you won’t tell mom or dad that you’ve heard from me yet!”

“But hun, there worried sick! They think you’re dead!”, she exclaimed in shock.

“Aunt Wynne, I swear that it is a matter of life and death! We will tell them, just as soon as you come get me please, for the love of god and Jack Daniels!”

She relaxed, “All right, all right! Where are you?”

Sam looked around for signage, “Uh…Malloy’s Tavern on 4.”

“Oh my god, you’re four hours and some away! At least! I’m leaving now dear but you had better explain!”

“I will, I promise, now don’t tell a soul where you are going! Promise me for pete sake!”

“I promise. I’m on my way, I love you!”

She hung up, and Sam retreated back into the shrubs. Echo 12 was crouched down, gazing at the people coming and going with cat like anticipation.

“There not hostiles, just people. You’ll have to get used to them.”

“They could be hostile, Sam.”, he countered quietly.

Sam scooted over to him and wrapped an arm around his midsection, “Anyone can be hostile 12, and just relax.”

Sam was aware of 12’s stomach growling angrily. Sam realized that neither of them had eaten in at least two days! He was starving, and his Replica must have been also. 12 eventually sat down on the ground and Sam took full advantage of that and curled himself up on his lap, resting his head on his neck. 12 held him, for hours until Sam’s aunts red Buick pulled up. Sam pulled himself away from 12 and edged out of the brush and approached her car.

Sam’s aunt was in her fifties, and had enjoyed the era of partying. She had never married, had always just invested in her portfolios and played the markets with her degree in finance. With that, she had money and knew how to use it. Sam smiled at her tanned and smile-wrinkled face. Her blue eyes shown with joy and intrigue as she rolled down the window, “Sam, you look terrible! Get in this car this instant!”

“Not yet.”, Sam said as he motioned for 12. He stepped out of the shrubs and strode up to her car. She seemed instantly concerned.

“Sam who is that?”

Sam grinned and leaned into the car to whisper to her, “That is my new bad ass boyfriend.”

She grinned, “You dog, and he’s a soldier hunk!”

“I’ll explain.”

Sam ushered 12 into the backseat. 12 didn’t bother sitting, instead he scrunched up on the seat as best he could. Sam claimed the front seat and didn’t speak until they were well down the darkened highway.

Aunt Wynne burst, “Okay! Now what is it?”

Sam took a deep breath, “The Company did it, and it was no terrorist attack. For the past three days we have been clawing our way out of Auburn through unbelievable destruction. ATC’s own security forces tried to kill the both of us; they pursued us out of Auburn. I know something about ATC and they wanted me dead, something to do with 12.”

“12 what?”

“Echo 12, that’s his name, although I have to convince him to get another one.”

Wynne was silent, “His name is Echo 12? I know marines are diehard but surely that’s not his real name.”

Oh boy, here came the difficult part. Before Sam could speak 12 beat him to it.

“I’m not a marine, I’m a bio-engineered soldier made exclusively by ATC for government use.”

Sam sighed and reached back to Echo 12 and rested his hand on his good knee, squeezing it affectionately.

Wynne snorted, “That didn’t even make sense.”

“You know how it was always rumored that the government was cloning people. Well, they did, except ATC did it. For real, no bullshit, he’s a clone soldier. He helped me get out of Auburn, and saved my ass a few times.”

“And now he’s your boyfriend? A clone soldier and you’re dating him? This is so twilight zone. I can imagine Jerry Springer’s episode title, ‘My sister stole my clone soldier’”, Wynne said with cheeky sarcasm.

“Well, I have no sister so I don’t have to worry about that.”

12 twitched, “What’s a boyfriend?”

Wynne laughed, “He’s your boyfriend and he doesn’t know it.”

“He was sheltered. Okay, we have to get some food. How’s McDonalds?”

Wynne’s eyebrows rose, “I don’t even want to know how much he eats.”

After the order at the restaurant, Wynne realized that 12 could eat like a garbage disposal. Between the two of them, and two dozen or so dollar menu sandwiches later, they were happily full.

“Aunt Wynne, I don’t know how long I need to stay with you. But if ATC is still out looking for us then we need to stay low, the both of us.”

“Well, I wish it was on better circumstances that you are finally living with me, but I’m glad none the less. Just as long as I don’t catch him doing missions in the woods.”

Chapter 13  
So we escaped, now what?

The four hour drive back to Aunt Wynne’s forest bungalow was mostly silent. Sam did not hesitate to sleep comfortably against 12 for the entirety of the journey, awakening only when the car came to a stop in her garage. Once the garage door was securely closed Wynne switched off the engine and let out a long sigh.

“Ok you two, I don’t expect a long story tonight but certainly tomorrow. Sammy, you know where the guest room is, you guys get some sleep.”

The trio entered the home and Sam was immediately awash with happy memories. The woody smell of the house intermingled with spicy potpourri dredged up the remembrances of the summers spent within its timber walls. Playing in the surrounding woods, catching bugs, swimming in the lake, it was pure happiness. Wynne switched on a few lights and set the car keys down on the kitchen counter before bustling off into the spacious great room.

Sam followed slowly, taking in the spacious room. The large stone fireplace and the lofty rafters high above, the exposed timber walls with various woodland scenes and faux animal trophies were all just as he remembered them. Wynne may have been dotty but for one thing she was consistent.

“Come now, they’ll be time to doddle about tomorrow”, Wynne called as she began to climb the steps to the floor above.

Sam smiled and followed, tugging gently on 12 to do the same. The bungalow was certainly bigger than one person needed but Wynne loved her space. The guest room whose balcony overlooked the lake was clean and save for the bed coverings had changed very little in the years since his childhood summers. Wynne bid them goodnight and gently closed the door.

12 paced about the room, cautiously inspecting every window, door and closet.

“This compound is not secure.”

Sam snorted, “It’s a house not a compound, and believe me Wynne values her privacy. Its safe 12, let’s go to bed.”

12’s green eyes spelled doubt but once Sam had undressed and slipped into bed he offered no further argument and followed suit. Once the lights were out Sam cuddled into 12’s strong spooning embrace. 

“12”, Sam whispered, “I don’t know how this will work but I don’t want you to leave.”

12 whispered back as he nestled into Sam’s hair, “I will never leave your side.”

Sam smiled and drifted off to sleep, but a restful sleep he did not receive. In the dream he was back at Armacham, alone and wandering the gore spattered halls. Suddenly the he man was there in front of him, the one they called ‘command’.

“You’re dead, the guard said you were”, Sam spoke, his voice echoing strangely off the dreamscape.

The man grinned and Sam was at once able to spot the bloody wound of a headshot. He spoke, and his voice was just as oily as he remembered.

“Death is only an inconvenience here Mr. Karcher. I know what you’ve done, you can’t keep him. They are mine, they all are and soon the one you took will have no choice but to return as he is called.”

Sam felt his anger rise, “No, we aren’t anywhere near you! 12 isn’t like the others, he cares for me! He’d never go back, whether you called or not!”

The tall man paced around Sam, “You really think you know, don’t you. You may have convinced him to follow you but he will return. They are weak minded, just as they were intended. I will have my army back, she will have her revenge.”

“She?”, Sam asked.

Suddenly the room changed and they were in the blood-soaked main lobby of the ATC Executive Building, all around stood other Replica soldiers, their images blurry.

The man smiled wickedly and he chuckled darkly, “Yes, my mother.”

Sam was suddenly filled with an unexplainable icy dread as feminine childlike whispers echoed around him. Suddenly from a dark shadow a pale, nude and cadaverous figure stepped forth, that of a young female with long black hair. The aura of pain and hate was so strong Sam could hardly breathe as he fell to his knees, the cold blood soaking his pants. A scream pierced his ears, one of raw fury. He felt his ears begin to bleed and his head wrack with excruciating pain as the images around him faded. The scream stopped and instead he was met with dead silence.

A figure approached and Sam looked up to see the ashen gray features of his coworker. His eyes were empty black sockets. Sam felt tears well up into his eyes as he stared into those lifeless cavities.

“Kim”, Sam sputtered, “I’m so sorry”

The ashy lips parted and his former coworker spoke, “He killed me you know, the one you are sleeping with.”

Sam was suddenly shook awake, all images of the dream vanishing in an instant as his eyes shot open. 12 was leaning over him, his black eyebrows furrowed in concern. The room was dimly illuminated by the early dawn.

“Sam, do you require medical assistance?”

Sam stared at 12 for a moment then began crying uncontrollably. 12 gently wrapped his arms around Sam and drew him into a deep embrace. Sam did his best to bury his face into 12’s chest. After a moment of Sam realizing that he was not in the Armacham Building but was in fact safe he fought back the tears with all his might. He pulled back from 12 and looked into his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m fine, it was just a dream.”

12 gently wiped away a tear from Sam’s face, “A dream? Images that appear during sleep?”

“Yes, sort of, just very real. 12, who was your commander? Did he have a name?”

12 shifted and sat up, “Yes, his designation was Fettel, Paxton.”

“But what was he? How does someone get to psychically control soldiers?”

“I do not know Sam.”

Same sighed and sat up as well, “What does his mother have to do with it?”

12 cocked his head in confusion, “His mother? I know nothing about a mother.”

“In the dream she was this really pale dead looking girl, with black hair. Maybe it was just my mind being weird, I mean I never saw any creepy looking dead bit-”

Sam stopped as he observed the wide eyed look on 12’s face. He looked almost afraid?

“12 what is it?”

“The girl, we, the squad, had seen her, in that form and that of a small child with a red dress. She never interacted with us, it was as if she had the ability to disappear, like a stealth unit.”

“Or a ghost”, Sam added quietly.

“A ghost?”, 12 asked.

Sam suddenly remembered Kim, his clearly dead features. What he said.

“12, do you remember killing people?”

12’s eyes dropped, his face became placid. Sam could almost detect guilt written on his strong features.

“I recall combat, if that means combatants were terminated then yes. I know that upsets you, I am sorry.”

Sam slid closer to 12 and placed a hand over his, squeezing gently, “I can’t blame you, you didn’t realize what you were doing. It’s hard to not follow an order when its being forced into your brain. 12, I have to ask you if you remembered seeing my friend Kim Lone.”

Sam proceeded to describe Kim but 12’s features did not reveal any recognition. 

“No Sam, I don’t recall that specific individual”, he answered after a moment.

Sam sighed, “I just wish I knew what happened to him. 12, in my dream Fettel said that he would get you back, call you back or something like that. Can that happen?”

“I do not know. What I do know is that I should not have awakened after the shutdown protocol was activated after the commander’s death. Perhaps I am defective. I am here, disregarding my previous standing order. If I have that capability then I can disregard other orders. I would do that for you and only you.”

Sam leaned up and kissed 12 gently on the cheek, “You’re a beautiful defect.”

12 smiled thinly, a slight expression of happiness that spoke volumes. A sudden knock on the door broke any further conversation. Wynne called through the door that coffee was ready and that ‘late risers get no eggs’.

Sam stretched and got out of bed, “Well, it’s time for you to experience an Aunt Wynne breakfast.”

12 rose and slid into his uniform pants and jacket, and, taking Sam’s lead, did not replace his boots and headed barefoot to the dining room. Once there, amidst the natural and knotty woodwork, Sam and 12 settled in at the great wooden dining table. It could easily accommodate a dozen people, but as time progressed Aunt Wynne received far less visitors than she once had. The dawn light played gently on the placid surface of the lake abutting the property, giving it a silvery gold sheen. The home had been specifically designed so that a view of the lake was obtainable from nearly any room.

After some brief clanging in the kitchen the nutty and spicy notes of an exotic coffee roast wafted into the room.

12 sniffed the air speculatively, “Coffee, I remember Armacham officials drinking that. One was a general, he was drinking it while inspecting our ranks. Replica forces are expensive, he commented.”

“So you guys were going to be used by the government? I bet they’ve got buyer’s remorse now.”

Aunt Wynne bustled in with a steaming carafe and three mugs. Each was filled as she set them down, pausing a moment to look at 12, “I assume you drink coffee?”

12 seemed unsure, “Replica forces never had the opportunity, it wasn’t in the dietary regimen.”

Wynne grinned, “Well, here’s to new experiences”, as she slid a filled mug towards him.

He picked it up gently and sipped it, “Bitter, what’s its purpose?”

“Well”, Sam began, “we drink it to help us wake up in the morning, the sweet nectar of caffeine.”

12 sipped again, “A stimulant, I doubt I require it. Replica’s are designed to be alert and operate at full capacity with very little rest. I was awake while you were still resting, I didn’t want to leave you.”

Wynne seated herself across from the duo, “I think he’s being sweet.”

Sam grinned, “It’s a slow process”, as he squeezed 12’s leg reassuringly.

Wynne spread her hands out on the table and took a deep breath, “Okay Sammy dear, spill it.”

Sam took a deep drink of the strong brew, “Okay, we were up late working on some government accounts”

After a new pot of coffee and a sliced up homemade coffee cake, that 12 couldn’t keep his hands off of, Aunt Wynne now knew just as much as they did. She was silent for a few moments, speculative, but slowly processing all that was said.

“So, he’s a clone soldier, there were like a thousand of him, psychically controlled by a crazy guy who’s now dead. Everyone in Fairport is dead, presumably all the rest of the clones are dead, and someone dropped a nuclear bomb on it? Now, somehow you convinced this one, Echo 12, to stay with you? He’s not acting like a guard, he’s acting like, well, you two are acting like you are a thing.”

“Yes, I am hoping that’s what this is.”, Sam replied.

12 seemed slightly confused, “A thing?”

Wynne raised an eyebrow, Sam quickly followed up, “He’s not up on the terminology.” Sam turned to 12, “You care about me, you won’t let anyone hurt me, you like physical contact with me, you like me correct?”

12 nodded, “Yes, I feel…comfort when I’m with you, I like seeing you smile, you are happy and that makes me happy.”

Sam smiled, “Yes, so we are what you would call ‘a thing’ we are together.”

“Affirmative”

Wynne smiled and shook her head, “This is just too cute. But what I don’t get is how it came about. They aren’t supposed to be individuals, they aren’t supposed to love or feel. How did this happen?”

“12 think’s it was a defect of some sort, he didn’t stay shut off when the commander died. He woke up, was no longer under any mind control. I guess he started making his own decisions.”

“So he woke up and was like ‘hey this guy’s cute, lets hit it off together.’”

Sam blushed slightly, “No it wasn’t exactly like that, he started off just protecting me. Then one thing kind of led to another.”

12 piped up immediately, “He introduced me to a physical pleasure I had not encountered before.”

Wynne immediately hooted with laughter, Sam’s face turned crimson, “12, you can’t tell her that!”

Wynne’s laughter failed to cease, “Sam you dog!”

12 looked as innocent as he could, “I don’t understand, it was pleasurable and I want it to happen again.”

Sam buried his face in his palms and mumbled, “Oh god”

“I will not speak of it further Sam”, 12 said quietly.

Sam chuckled, “Its ok, just a little embarrassing. Ok, moving on to the real big problem. We escaped quarantine, they are probably coming after us and I don’t know what we can do. They don’t want anyone knowing what happened.”

Wynne nodded, “He’s evidence of really illegal and morally questionable activity. I know you hate to hear it but maybe your brother-”

“No”, Sam interrupted roughly, “Not him, I’m not asking Andy for a damn thing.”

Wynne frowned slightly, “I understand love, but at least think about it as a last resort.”

“I didn’t mean to snap, I will think about it.”

“Evidence”, 12 began, “of the entire mission?”

Yes”, Sam leaned in, “something that Armacham and the government both wouldn’t want the public knowing. Something we could use to make them leave us alone.”

12 slowly reached into his left cargo pant pocket and withdrew a small square, flat object no larger than a digital camera photo card, “Something like this?”

“What is it”, Sam asked as 12 placed it into his hand.

“The backup recording drive for the helmet camera.”

 

Chapter 14  
Leverage

 

Location: Emergency Command Operations, 2 Miles outside Fairport, Requisitioned Oregon State Police Post 

 

“What’s the status of the Armacham Recon Team?”

A technician seated at a portable terminal turned slightly to answer his superior, “Approximately two clicks from the Armacham Cloning Facility sir.”

General Malcolm Hull sighed angrily and looked around the room in abject disappointment, halting his gaze on the cluster of Armacham personnel clustered around the main satellite display. A suited man, most likely from Homeland Security or the NSA, spoke briefly with the group before pulling himself away and striding over to the general.

“General”, he spoke before halting next to the taller man, “Agent Crestwell, Department of Defense Special Investigations Unit, I apologize for not introducing myself sooner but I just got in from Langley.”

The general nodded his head and shook the man’s offered hand, “This is a complete clusterfuck.”

The agent, a shorter mid-thirties man, leanly built with thinning brown hair and nondescript features nodded in agreement, “Yes, it is. But, the joint chiefs have instructed us to assist Armacham in cleaning up their fucking mess. Containment is primary; it’s all our asses in front of a Senate hearing if this goes south. No departments throwing one another under the bus, if it goes we all hang equally.”

The general rubbed his rough features then ran a hand over his salt and pepper buzz cut, “The entire population of an American city dead, military personnel causalities in the hundreds, a super soldier cloning project in shambles and a supernatural disaster brewing a few miles away. How do you suppose it’ll be contained? The fucking AWOL F.E.A.R operative detonated a goddamned nuclear reactor in an urban city! Please, tell me how this will be contained.”

The agent cast a sidelong glance up at the taller man, “The F.E.A.R program has been disbanded, the operative in question has been recovered. All surviving members have been debriefed. They are attempting to recover Sergeant Becket; perhaps he will provide intel we don’t have considering he’s the only survivor. Its sounds silly but a wall is being flown in, sectional, to be put around the city. After that the area will be sanitized, it’ll be known as the American Chernobyl, quarantined for the foreseeable future. All the supernatural bullshit will stay right here.”

General Hull huffed with dubious enthusiasm, “That simple, I certainly hope so. What about the surviving test tube freaks?”

“The surviving Replica forces have been psychically disabled and are receiving verbal commands. They are being contained and moved to the Armacham Facility in New York. Armacham will no longer pursue a psychic program for command.”

The general frowned and shook his head incredulously, “The DoD still wants the damn program? Christ.”

The agent accepted a cup of coffee from a passing assistant and sipped it speculatively, “Yes, the cloning procedure works and the Replica soldiers performed beyond all expectations. They did manage to eliminate two Delta Force teams, that is impressive. It’s the psychic element that failed.”

Hull grew grave, “Those Delta Force teams died on American soil for a company’s mistake. They sacrificed for nothing, don’t trivialize their lives.”

“I apologize, general, that wasn’t my intent. One must be dispassionate about these things or we simply can’t survive them.”

Hull nodded curtly, “I see. Now, what about the survivor?”

Agent Crestwell cracked his neck before answering, “Samuel Karcher escaped with a Replica Infantryman, Armacham claims a malfunction in the neural mapping of the clone allowed for individual thought. How he was convinced to protect him is unknown. I must admit, for an unimportant employee with an unimpressive background surviving that ordeal is unbelievable. He’s the only survivor of Armacham’s Fairport Branch, and the only survivor of the city itself. We have to find him, he must be debriefed.”

“You mean eliminated.”, General Hull added quickly.

The agent raised an eyebrow, “Hardly, if you recall I said all the departments involved would hang if this goes public. There’s one way to ensure we all survive.”

The general observed the agent with surprise, “You mean use his evidence, testimony, or whatever to control Armacham. So if it goes south it lands on them.”

“Indeed”, the agent continued, “All records of government involvement have been eliminated, all personnel re-assigned and transferred. The only threat is to Armacham.”

“I see. What about the replica?”

“He’s valuable as well, if he can provide a rendition of events. I doubt he’s capable of lying. I have the FBI and NSA working on tracking them down. I doubt Karcher realizes how much danger he’s in, Armacham has made it very clear they handle things on their own.”

“Where do we stand on finding him?”

The agent finished the coffee and placed the mug on an unoccupied desk, “The parents have had no contact, their electronic records proved as much. There is an aunt that received a call to her cell phone from a pay phone, a phone located four hours from her home, not very far from here. Security camera footage of the nearby truck stop confirmed sight of Karcher and the Replica. They are with her.”

“So they are being retrieved?”

“Yes, but a hack was executed at the NSA Intel Station. We aren’t the only ones that know his location.”

“Armacham”, the general growled.

“Armacham”, the agent nodded.

“Sir”, the technician called from his station, “the team entered the cloning facility and are heading to the ATC chamber on the island.”

“Good, keep me apprised”

The general, Agent Creswell, and a mishmash of ATC and other government personnel had gathered closely around the panel of monitors that had been arranged in the police stations ready room. The feeds on the monitors were the helmet cams of the ATC recon team as they proceeded along the destroyed tracks that were once the cloning facilities monorail system.

“Doctor Layman”, Agent Creswell began as he turned towards the hawkish framed scientist, “what was the purpose of the chamber on Still Island?”

The doctor cleared his throat, “It’s where the Telesthetic Amplifier is housed. We believe that between former CEO Aristide and Terry Halford they had convinced Sergeant Becket that by first making himself a stronger telepathic receiver they would lure Alma Wade to the chamber and seal her in. It clearly didn’t work; she’s stronger now than before.” 

The general whistled, “Wow, you guys really screwed the pooch on this one.”

Doctor Layman cast the general a sour look, “We have made mistakes but it was also a government operator that decided to detonate a nuclear reactor.”

Agent Creswell cut in quickly, “Gentleman, mistakes were made on both sides. We are here to remedy it. The time to cast blame is not now.”

The men grumbled but focused their attention back to the monitors. As the men exited the tunnels the cooling tower of the defunct reactor came into view, shrouded by the falling ash. Proceeding into the facility, the team was soon met with a bloody and crumpled corpse. Turning the body over, the team leader let out an expletive of surprise.

“My God, its Genevieve Aristide!”, Doctor Layman exclaimed.

“It appears she was killed by severe blunt force trauma Control”, answered the team leader.

“Acknowledged, proceed with caution.”, answered the ATC employee monitoring the operation.

Proceeding deeper into the darkened and cavernous chamber, the team fanned out and secured the area. The team leader cautiously approached the amplifier chamber.

“I am going to open the chamber Control.”

“Acknowledged”

The door was slowly opened and the team leaders flashlight equipped rifle illuminated the cramped interior and its sole occupant.

“Control, it’s the sergeant. He’s alive.”

“Acknowledged team leader, secure him for transport back to the extraction point ASAP.”

“Well, that a good bit of news there”, exclaimed General Hull.


End file.
